Daddy's
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I took my time and sucked each of her toes and made sure to lick between each one too. Finally it was time to get to work. The day was almost over. I told her I would be back tomorrow to finish her cable installation. As I was getting up I stuck her socks in my pocket. I gave her my card and gathered my things. She didn't look to happy that I was leaving, but I had to keep my job. I got into my van and drove to the nearest park. I turned off the van and pressed her socks to my nose and masturbated. In about a half second I came all over her socks!
The End.
Latino Lust
My name is Andrea and I'd been married for almost twenty-two years until a fateful night when I'd gone to the gym. When I turned fifty, I realized the spark was gone from my marriage. With Ben either working overtime at the office or traveling, my life had become little more than a dull, everyday routine.
I joined the gym not only to get back into shape, but also hopefully meet new people. Ben's comments about my body thickening over the course of our years together became more frequent and began to wear down my self-esteem.
While I'm far from model material, it isn't as if I'm unattractive. I was still between 145 and 150 pounds at five feet, two inches with bobbed dark hair with its occasional gray strands kept under wraps with regular colorings. Many say I'm still pretty for my age, but with full breasts and a thick ass (which my dear now ex-husband never failed to mention it had gotten wider each day), I had to wonder if working out was making any difference. According to Ben, he didn't see much change and even questioned if I was actually going to the gym three days a week.
Since Ben was on the road a great deal (and likely having affairs, though I was never able to prove it), I went to bed alone, often riding my vibrator to multiple orgasms while I watched adult videos of uninhibited gorgeous women and well-hung male hunks sucking and fucking several partners.
The men who turned me on the most in the films were well-endowed studs with dark features and hard bodies, though not overly muscled. Seeing those men as they fucked their female - and sometimes male - partners really gave my vibrator a workout.
I guess I could've been like some much braver women and found a lover, but doubted the kind of men I found attractive would think the same about me.
One thing about vibrators, they were always ready for action and didn't care what I looked like.
I went to the gym Friday evening to ease the boredom that once again crept in every room of the quiet house. When I arrived, there were only two other people and a staff person. I figured with the nice evening and upcoming weekend, most people were either on dates or hitting the clubs and bars.
My eyes were drawn to a man who was working out on one of the machines. He smiled at me and I couldn't get over how.hot he was. He had to be at least twenty years younger than I, with the smoking dark looks that I liked. I looked around the room expecting a girlfriend or wife not far away. Otherwise, why was a man like him spending time at the gym on a Friday night?
When he finally spoke, he had an accent that I recognized as some type of Latin heritage. "Quiet here tonight."
"Yes it is," I replied. "It's a nice evening, so I guess everyone is out enjoying Friday night."
"You here alone?"
"Uh...yes." I felt a little color rise in my neck.
He smiled in response before coming over to sit beside me. We chatted a little more while I finished working out on one of the machines.
I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt one of his hands on my knee.The jolt of electricity that passed between us as he looked into my eyes almost made me faint. It became clear that he was attracted to me and wanted to do something about it.
He removed his hand and pulled off his T-shirt. I held my breath at the sight of him. His muscles were well-defined, and a small amount of near-black hair covered his upper chest.
He kissed me fiercely as his hand slid under the leg of my shorts and began to explore the area between my thighs.
He put one of his massive arms around me and his tongue invaded every inch of the inside of my mouth. I could plainly see the bulge in his workout shorts and could think of nothing else except how much I wanted him inside me.
His hand concentrated on my sex. I felt alive for the first time in years! I wanted that hard-bodied sexy young stud to rip off my clothes and fuck me as hard as he could right there in the exercise machine room.
His fingers continued to plunge in and out of my pussy with my legs spread wide, and found their way deeper inside me. The feeling made my head spin with lust. He finger fucked me a little longer before he withdrew them and stood.
I became disappointed, wondering if he was just a tease not about to finish what he started, and it drove me crazy!
"Meet me at the whirlpool in a few minutes," he said before he left the room.
I couldn't figure out why he wanted to go in the whirlpool right after he'd gotten me so worked up. Still, he wanted me to meet him, so I went to the locker room and changed into the two-piece bathing suit I kept specifically for swimming and the whirlpool.
He was waiting when I walked in. When I stepped in the whirlpool to join him, I soon discovered he was totally nude in it and his cock was fully erect.
I had no time to react when he pulled me up, sat me on the edge, and, in one smooth move, pulled off my bottoms.
He spread my legs and lowered his mouth between them. His tongue caressed, teased, and tormented my pussy. I extracted my tits from under my bathing suit top, and he massaged my breasts with his spare hand in time with licking and finger fucking my moist slit.
The thrusting fingers inside me seemed to know just where to put pressure and he drove me wild. I was about ready to come when he withdrew his fingers and tongue and pulled me back into the water.
He pulled my legs up to his waist and I felt his cock slide into my sex. I squirmed and wiggled, trying to give him more access to push more of his hardness into me. I wrapped my legs around him as tight as I could while he fucked me me like a man possessed, pumping his long, thick shaft in and out of me nonstop.
I moaned and writhed as I came at the feeling of his hot Latino dick fucking me harder. I don't know how long my orgasm lasted, but it seemed to be an eternity. He looked into my eyes while his throbbing member invaded my insides, fucking me so fast, the outside world became a blur.
His balls became a tight knot and his cock swelled. I felt his semen pass into my body while he howled with pleasure. It seemed to spurt in me for an eternity, like he would never stop coming. He never looked away from my eyes until his cock and balls were completely drained.
He kissed me again before lowering my legs from his waist and stepped back with a satisfied smirk on his face. "By the way, I'm Luis," he said. "Are you busy the rest of the weekend?"
******************
I filed for divorce on Monday morning and began an intense affair with Luis that has lasted to the present day. He loves my extra curves and my age makes no difference to him.
While we still go to the gym together, we now have our own whirlpool in which we relieve our first night together often. Before I met Luis, I never realized sex in a whirlpool could be so hot - and I'm not talking about the water temperature.
Luis is still a wonderful lover, and he was the perfect solution to recharging my once dull life. Sometimes sexual encounters with a dark stranger can turn into something exciting.
The End.
Maid Naughty for Him
I keep house for Nick Rhodes.
That is to say, I'm his housekeeper. The agency sent me over a few months ago; I thought it might have been a one time assignment, as he's never really home, but he likes someone to come in everyday. So hey, that's easy, keeping a clean house clean. I have my routine. When I first walk in the door, I scratch Yag behind the ears. He's not a super friendly cat, but in the absence of any company, he has grown to tolerate me. I know he secretly likes me. Yag is a lot like his master, reserved, but secretly purring on the inside.
Mr. Rhodes is in the United States on his summer tour. I don't like to play his stereo too loud, so I bring my I-Pod to work and blast 80's dance hits in my ear. Today, it's a new song, "Get Low." "Get low, get low," I drawl out to the top of my lungs. My duster has become a whip. I am scantily clad in a leather outfit with thigh high crimson latex boots. I grip my pole, a brass side to a curio cabinet in the main hall, undulating carefully to the music. The disco lights are flashing around me, and I can see the hungry looks of the men in the front row. "Get low, get low," I mouth to them. They are hot for me. They want me. "Kelly," they scream. "Kelly. What the hell?"
Mr. Rhodes is standing in the front hall with his mouth open. His bags lay in a heap by his feet and his button down shirt is hanging sloppily from the front of his suit. Mr. Rhodes is home. I pull the earplugs out of my ear; the music is so loud that we both can hear Florida crooning through the hallway. I fumble for the volume. My duster has drooped like a shunned peacock.
Mr. Rhodes is staring at me with a funny look, like he has never seen me before. I stare back and tuck a stray curl behind my ear.
"Hello, Kelly," he says evenly. His face is expressionless.
"Hello, Mr. Rhodes," I say quickly. My face feels like it's on fire. I immediately grab the smallest bag and high-tail it towards the bedroom. "Is there anything in the kitchen?" he asks down the hall. I can hear him making his way towards the kitchen. You see, that's another one of my duties. I go to the store, buy the groceries. He's not home for dinner much and he doesn't expect me to cook, but before he left on tour, I started fixing a few vegetarian dishes and just leaving them wrapped in the refrigerator for him to heat up when he came home late. It wasn't in the agency contract, but I did it anyways.
Well, there is nothing in the kitchen. He hasn't been home in weeks. I bet even the bread is completely covered in green. I cringe. "I don't think there's much," I say with a lilt. Maybe it's not too late to run to the store. "Can I order you something?" I grab another bag and rush down the hall. No answer.
I have carried all the bags back. There is still silence coming from the kitchen. I pick up my duster from the floor where I left it and absently run it over the hall table. It is getting late anyway; I am usually gone by this time. I can see the dark through the curtains. I need to go through the house and pull the curtains shut and then I'll go.
"Kelly!" I hear from the kitchen. 'Kelly, come here, please."
It is the tone of his voice that immediately sets me on alarm. An even tone, but with an edge to it. Mr. Rhodes never yells, but I have seen him pretty unhappy. I'd stand better chances with Satan, himself. I'm in trouble.
I walk in and Mr. Rhodes is standing next to a high backed stool that pulls up to the bar. He locks eyes with me as I walk in, deep green eyes. Like a green ocean. The kind of eyes that somebody could drown in.
"What is this?" he asks, pointing to the chair. His voice is hard and even; I have memories of my high school principal. I look down at the chair. This must be a trick question, I think. I bite my lip. A chair? I want to say it, but resist.
"This!" he says. Now he might be close to yelling. I look closely at the cushion. At first, it looks like cat poo, but I can tell it is another one of Yag's hairballs that he coughed up. I squish up my nose, but remain silent. I think Mr. Rhodes knows it is a hairball.
"How long do you think it's been here?" he questions. I think I know the answer to this question. It looks pretty old. And I know why he's asking it.
He very adamantly told me months before he left that he wanted the kitchen cushions vacuumed everyday to suck up the cat fur. That was one thing that really bugged him-- getting ready to eat his cheese sandwich and finding a grayish hair stuck to it. He even added the task into my agency contract. But with him gone, I had been a little lax in vacuuming every day. OK, I hadn't vacuumed since the man walked out the door. I felt shame and guilt wash over me . I didn't know what to say. I hadn't been to the store, I hadn't cleaned the chairs. Maybe he would think that I sat around and watched soap operas all day. Well, I had looked at a few. All right, I was downright hooked on a few of them, and my TV was on the fritz. I couldn't look at him. I could feel the heat from his stare burning a hole in the top of my head.
He strides out the door, stopping at the edge of the kitchen. "Come with me." He heads down the hall.
I obediently follow him down the hall. Here he goes, I think. He's going to find my paperwork and tear it up in front of my face. "You're fired," I imagine him saying. On to another job. But maybe the agency would fire me after losing a high profile contract like him. I have skills, I think encouragingly.
But he doesn't stop at his office. He goes all the way back to his bedroom. In fact, he is standing in the center of his bedroom waiting for me to come in the door.
Now, I've been in Nick Rhodes bedroom before. I know that there are a lot of girls who would like to say that! I've changed his sheets countless times. But it looks different now. It's because he's standing in it. Everything looks different, more masculine, more HIS.
He quietly walks to the door and shuts it. He has cut off my escape route. The hair on the back of my head is standing up. He walks back and takes a stance right in front on me with his arms folded.
"What do you think I should do with you, Kelly?"
His low deep voice wraps around me. I stare into his eyes, unable to look away. My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish that has flipped out of its bowl. Maybe he's going to kill me, I think blindly. I am definitely afraid. My legs are starting to tremble, and I will myself not to pass out on the floor. I realize that I am still holding my duster, and I contemplate how I would use it as a weapon.
I cannot hold his stare, so my eyes drift downward. His arms are crossed and his hand is absently rubbing a spot on his elbow and I watch, mesmerized, the gentle motion of his fingers lulling me out of my fear and into a dream. His fingers stop moving, hovering over the spot on his jacket, the perfectly manicured nails floating as if suspended in midair. His hands are much bigger than one would think. That is one thing about Nick Rhodes- he has beautiful hands, quiet and still, until he speaks, and then they flutter like birds. I could see the muscles pull against the knuckles, making the pale skin ripple. There were light tufts of soft brown translucent hair that dotted each finger. I wanted to reach out and touch the back of his hand.
"Kelly?" He had been talking to me, but I could only concentrate on his fingers. His thick eyebrows knit together, and he bends down a second to catch my eyes again. I snap out of my stupor. What is wrong with me? "Mr. Rhodes," I begin, "look.."
"You can call me Nick. Please. I've told you that before." He doesn't seem as cross, but he still has his arms folded.
Mr. Rhodes would be easier, I think. "Nick," I say carefully. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't expecting you. I know that the house is not like you would like it." Excuses pour out in a frenzy. I am rushing now, the words spraying out like water through a leaky pipe. "I can stay tonight. Tidy up. Whatever you need."
No response.
"Look, Mr. Rhodes. Nick. I really need this job. Don't fire me." I can feel my eyes tearing up. Don't cry, I tell myself.
His face softens. He uncrosses his arms.
"I'm not going to fire you," he says. His lips curl into a small smile. "I like you, Kelly."
"Really?" I feel relief float over me. I wipe my eyes quickly. His green eyes are boring into me with a glimmer of something in them. "Thanks." A moment of pause. "So I'll just get my things..." I back up a step.
"Oh no. I
don't think so."
I stop. "No?" What else could there be, I think. The fact that I am standing in my employer's bedroom with a closed door already has me on edge. And not just any employer. The man in front of me is the stuff of my daily fantasies. The reality of the situation made my stomach cramp.
"No, Kelly. I forgive you for your..." he paused, looking off, trying to find the right word. "Your disobedience. I think that you are well aware that your work is not satisfactory and that you will correct that, right?"
I nod quickly.
"However, I think that you need to learn a little lesson from this. I think a good old fashioned spanking is in order."
I can feel all the blood leave my upper body. He's joking, I think.
But Nick walks over to a couch pushed in a corner, and casually takes off his jacket, laying it carefully over the back. He walks back, rolling up his right sleeve. I can't speak. Fear, crazy fear, has consumed me and I can't move. I am rooted to the spot on the carpet.
Nick goes over to the bed. It is a very modern-looking bed, teakwood and low to the floor with a thin comforter tucked into the slats. He sits, after first taking his hand to brush a tuft of cat fur with a scowl, and firmly plants his feet on the floor. He pats the spot next to him.
"Come here, Kelly."
"No," I whisper, unconvincingly.
We both stare at each other. I swallow hard and push back my shoulders. I am trying to think of an argument, but my throat is tight and I can't speak. Moments pass.
"Come here, Kelly." There is an impatience now, creeping into his voice. I can see the hardness coming back into his face. Do I really want to anger him? As afraid as I am, it is fear of being in his arms more than the spanking itself that frightens me the most. Isn't this what I had prayed for, fantasized about day after day? Opportunity is sitting right in front of me. His hand sits firmly on the comforter. The next thing I know, I am standing next to him.